Making Up and Making Out
by Fira21
Summary: Fighting with best friends,' Virgil/Richie thought. 'Really sucks.' Making up and making out, is good though. Very good. VR Virichie
1. Richie

I am the master of run-on sentences.

I don't own any of this.

This is for everyone who reviewed my previous SS VR fic. Thank you all very much and I'm very glad that not only is this fandom not dead, but there are still those out there reading authors hard work.

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'Fighting with best friends,' Richie thought. 'Really sucks.'

Fighting with friends in general is never a pleasant experience, but a fight with a best friend is worse. A _lot_ worse.

The biggest problem with fighting with a best friend is that fights, true honest to god fights, rarely happen. There are arguments, plenty of them. Silly little petty things that are always small and they're usually laughing because they know neither will change their minds but it's fun anyway.

This was not a silly little petty thing. No, this was a fight, and the problem with best friend fights was that they hurt all the worse because they were so very very rare.

Fighting and it's blinding _pain. hurt .torment_ and his heart is being torn into shreds and each shred is then shattered like fragile glass. Fragile glass that shines and sparkles and falls and _rips. tears .shreds_ his insides. He bleeds from the pain and it hurts so much until the blood wants to come from his eyes as tears.

He knows, _knows_, Virgil feels the same as him because his face almost twists in pain, the look he knows he's wearing as well. Both of them know how much the other hurts but when the fight gets this bad neither cares.

They won't cry though, ever, and when it starts to get so bad they know they _will_ cry, they think of the absolute worst scathing comment, say it, and turn and walk away, not even throwing biting remarks over their shoulders like most would during a fight because the silence says more than anything else and both can't think of anything else but to keep from crying. Richie knows this because him and Virgil will talk about it later and they both know how much it hurts, how they both feel exactly the same. The only difference is that Virgil will usually wait and hold his tears in until they forgive each other and he lets a few fall on Richie's shoulder when they embrace, whereas Richie will lie in bed at night, all night, crying, and feeling like a wimp, just like he was doing now.

He couldn't even really remember what the damn argument was about, though he had a feeling it was something about Daisy and Frieda and how they can never hang out anymore. Something about how the hell _can_ they hang out with bang babies on one side and the League on the other and why the hell are you getting mad at me because it's not _my_ fault.

They argued in the Gas Station of Solitude. It was where all of their very rare fights occurred. Except once where they went at in school and the shouting got so loud that the Vice Principal _and_ Principal had come out to see what was going on and both had stopped just inside the circle of people that had gathered around the two, and everyone, _everyone_, was gaping in disbelief, and a few girls were crying, as they watched them, Virgil and Richie, Richie and Virgil, the two best friends _ever_, fight. Daisy and Frieda had told them later it was the single-worst day the school had ever seen.

It was an unspoken agreement afterwards to save any and all serious problems for the privacy of HQ, which while they could yell about Static and Gear things, and Gear and Static things, there, this sometimes unfortunately let problems fester and grow.

Richie sighed. Rehashing old fights never did any good, especially when the latest was still simmering in the recesses of his thoughts, and it was late. Not that he would get much, if any, sleep tonight, and even though tomorrow was Saturday, god only knew what would happen in the life of a super hero.

So he laid down, still crying, still calling himself a wuss, and _why_ was he crying his heart out when he new it would all work out. It always did...

It still hurt.

Richie felt he always took these fights more to heart than Virgil. Virgil was quick to anger, and usually, _usually_ being the operative word, quick to forgive, he always had been, and always - _usually -_ would be, but Richie... Richie was a slow build up like a rubber band stretching, until finally one last thing, one wrong word, one wrong action, made him snap, and the reverberations lasted, and echoed long after the fight. It was because of this that the two had started talking about their fights, because 'I'm sorry's had never seemed like enough to Richie, and the guilt would eat away at him.

It _had_ occurred to Richie that they fought like a married couple, and forgave like one, minus the kissing, but he'd never mention to Virgil that he wouldn't mind kissing and making up, literally.

He was pretty sure he was the only one looking for that in this relationship, or non-existent relationship, as the case may be - _was_.

He was also pretty sure he was the girl: taking fights too seriously, always crying, etc. etc., and so on and so forth.

He also thought too much, he thought, and realizing he had just thought again, he groaned, but he was always thinking so nothing new there.

Giving sleep up as a lost cause, he sat up and called Backpack and tried - _and failed_ - to loose himself in work. He could for every other problem, but Virgil refused to go away. Ever. Even when he was immersed in equations and variables and well, _everything_, the teen was still there.

The only thing he could do was think. Think, think, think, and great , now along with Virgil, he had Winnie the Pooh in his head and the two were dancing.

He sometimes thought about writing it all down, but no matter what it was called, Diary, Journal, or whatever, _that_ was still too girly for him. Blubbering? Fine. Irrational? Fine. Schoolgirl crush? Fine. But Diary's? Hell no. He still had _some_ pride, dammit. Besides, he didn't need a diary/journal/_whatever_, that was Virgil's job. Even if the teen didn't always listen, the thought was there.

Thoughts thoughts everywhere, and no reprieve in sight.

And now Samuel Taylor Coleridge was in his mind, and was teaching Virgil and Pooh the minuet and the waltz and just the mere _thought_ of Virgil dancing was enough to cheer him slightly. Very slightly.

He was still trying - _and failing_ - to work with Backpack, and maybe if he kept trying he would succeed in accomplishing something by morning.

He didn't, but hey, it was worth a shot right?

Right?

...

Yeah, he was pathetic.

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Review please. If you can.

If you're wondering in Winnie the Pooh, Pooh Bear often says 'Think think think' though I'm sure most all of you know that.

And 'Water water everywhere, nor any drop to drink' is a quote from Samuel Taylor Coleridge that I modified for my benefit.


	2. Virgil

Chapter 2 because I have this finished, I'm just typing it all out.

I am the master of run-on sentences, and switching writing styles back and forth in the midsts of writing.

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'Fighting with best friends,' Virgil thought. 'Really sucks.'

Fighting with friends in general is never fun, but a fight with a best friend is worse. A _lot_ worse.

The biggest problem with fighting with a best friend, is that it hurts more, so much more, than fighting with just a friend.

Best friends know everything about you, and if they don't then they aren't your best friend. At least that's what Virgil believed.

It's because best friends know everything about you that it hurts more, because they know exactly where to hit, to hurt, and hurt _deep_.

He wasn't even really sure what they had been fighting about, something about Daisy and Frieda, and hanging out... It was strange too because he was actually sitting with the two girls, for lunch, at Get Your Grub On, and actually _eating_. First, a burger and fries, with a milkshake, then a slice of apple pie that probably wasn't that fresh but who cared because he was actually with the girls, hanging out, and _nothing - had - happened_! It was a Saturday afternoon and there were no bang babies, no fires, no cops, _nothing_! It was a damn miracle, or the Apocalypse.

Likely the latter, because Richie wasn't here, and he had been dodging questions all meal. The girls had stopped eventually, realizing that Virgil plus No Richie equals Big Fight, and they were rather cold for most of the end of lunch until he finally asked why they were mad at him.

"Because it's usually your fault." Daisy told him and he sputtered even while Frieda was nodding agreement.

"Well what was your _last_ big fight about?" Frieda asked him accusingly.

Their last fight... Their last fight _had_ been his fault. He had just save Richie's/Gear's butt - again - after he had been shot out of the sky by a green blob of... of _gunk_ their latest enemy was throwing. After they won, he had freaked a little, okay a lot, but he had just been so _scared_, he was _always_ scared of loosing Richie. He knew the blonde could watch himself, but he just couldn't help worrying, so he had said a few things he regretted almost immediately.

He couldn't say, well, _any_ of that to the girls, what with it being Static/Gear business, but even by the look on his face, they could nod and say, "Told you."

"But," Daisy said. "When you two fight it doesn't really matter anyways, because we all suffer the same."

"Whether it be our friendship or... other things." Frieda added.

"Other things?" He asked, and took a sip of his milkshake.

'Y'know, certain extracurricular activities." Frieda said and grinned.

"Like saving people, rescuing animal, fighting off Hotstreak." Daisy grinned as well.

"Or that creepy green blobby guy a few weeks back." Frieda added.

Virgil, who had just dislodged his milkshake from his esophagus with a series of coughs, could only stutter... And sweat. 'I-I don't know what-"

"Just normal Static/Gear activities." Daisy finished.

"W-Wha?" He stammered.

"Oh come off it Virgil!" Frieda finally said and glared at him. "You think we couldn't figure it out?"

"Though it did take us a while." Daisy mused.

"Well, forest for the trees and all that." Frieda told her.

"Haven't you noticed sneaking off has gotten a little easier when we're around?" Daisy asked.

"Or 'not around' as the case may be." Frieda added.

"True."

Silence, because he _had_ noticed. So had Richie. They had talked about it. Talked about how when finding places to change in crowds used to be secret-identity suicide, now it was... not so much.

"Methinks the boy gets it Daisy."

"Methinks so too Frieda."

"I can't believe you both just said 'methinks'." Virgil muttered and was met with grins.

"Anyways. I have shopping to do. Ready to go Daisy?" Frieda asked and stood.

"Yup." Daisy grabbed both their trays and threw the garbage in the trash can, setting the trays on top.

"Bye Virgil! Make up!" The two said in unison, and left.

Virgil could only gape, then shake his head and sigh.

"Unbelievable."

He supposed it was ironic that they had just been arguing about not spending time with the girls and the one time he actually spent a moderate amount of time with them with no interruptions was the one time Richie didn't show up.

Stupid fight. Stupid stupid fight, and dammit, Daisy and Frieda were right. It _was_ his fault... _again_. It wouldn't matter how many times Richie got kidnapped, or hurt, or made a plan that backfired, the fights would _always_ be his fault.

The end was the worse. It always was, because the end was where the absolute worst horrible comments were made and they both just _left_, and these always hit close to home...

'Pathetic, wimpy, irritating, know-it-all, with a princess complex! You can't go five minutes in a battle without getting hit or kidnapped! You really are just a sidekick!'

Even with everything that had been said, that was the worse. There was _nothing_ worse to Richie than being called a sidekick, and the complete broken _pain_ in the blonde's eyes had had Virgil recoiling in shock and regret. The hurt then vanished, replaced with anger...

'Annoying, stupid, asshole, with a chip on his shoulder the size of Mt. Rushmore! You're so arrogant it's amazing anyone can stand to be near you for periods of longer than five minutes! You- You're- You just-!'

And this time is was him who was hurting, because Richie was _never_ inarticulate, and the look of shock on his face earlier was now mirrored on Richie's.

At that moment there were two things he wanted to do: apologize or walk away. He chose the latter. Richie did the same.

Face flushed, glasses askew, hair mussed, and huffing in anger, and it really didn't help during the fight to be thinking about how much he wanted to jump his best friend, because yeah, _that_ would go over well. Hadn't even realized his attraction until then and wasn't that great? Having such a monumentous epiphany in the middle of them yelling.

Not that it mattered anyways seeing as they weren't talking now.

He was lying on his bed now, just staring at his ceiling. Bored, very bored, and why was it always when they weren't talking that there was nothing to do? To distract him? No school, no baddies, no League business. Hell he was even finished his homework!

The only thing for him to do was to make up with Richie, and it really sucked to have to apologize first, even if it was his fault...

Especially if it was his fault.

First though, he had to remember exactly what started it all, because unlike fights with friends where you could fake forgiveness, best friends always knew if you were insincere, and even if you _were_ sincere, you still had better have a damn good apology set up.

Then he had to figure out where Richie was. Home or gas station, home, or gas station...

Well, he'd have to try the station because he really didn't feel like dealing with Richie's dad.

So, apology, which meant trying to remember the whole damn fight, which sucked, because he didn't _want_ to remember and even trying made his heart hurt. but he would. For Richie.

It was always for Richie.

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Review if you can.


	3. Kiss and Make Out

Last chapter. Enjoy. Be on the lookout for a minor, barely explained sex scene which is the whole reason for the M rating...  
I am the master of run-on sentences.

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Heart hammering, skin slick with sweat and the feeling of being absolutely _Terrified_, with a capital 'T' and emphasis to boot.

Praying amongst prayers, hoping against hope that Richie would be at the station. Had to pray because if Richie wasn't there and was at home he was so _screwed_. At the same time hoping he wasn't because then he could delay the conversation and delay bringing back the _hurt_ that was pounding a staccato-istic rhythm in his heart and squeezing, compressing, harshly on his lungs and he did _not_ want to enter the gas station...

He opened the door.

Lights on, TV on, the resounding '_click clickety click click BEEP!_' of Backpack, and a shock of blonde hair visible over the chair in Richie's corner.

Yeah, he was here, though Virgil _still_ didn't know if that was good or bad.

Walking over now, breath short, and he felt like he was suffocating in the complete silence except his shoes scuffing sounds and the loud _creeeaakkk_ of Richie's chair turning.

He stopped in front of the blonde. Complete silence, and eyes met. Complete and utter silence.

"Well?" Richie murmured and he jumped slightly. "Are you going to say anything?" _Anything at all? Like an apology? If not stop wasting my time because I'm still hurting and this is _not_ helping_.

Unspoken words spoken in his eyes, and Virgil dropped to his knees and pulled Richie forward from him chair, hugging him tight, and resting their foreheads against each others. "I'm sorry." He whispered, and the room echoed with things unsaid. _Sorry I yelled. Sorry for the fight. Sorry I took my anger, my frustration, out on you. Sorry I said all those things. Sorry I walked away. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry..._

Noses nudged, fingers brushed, and Richie started crying. Not silent, but not noisy,as his breath caught, and his shoulders shook, and he made little snuffling sounds and the odd hiccup, and that finally _finally_ got Virgil started, and they could do nothing but cling to one another as they let go of their pain in tears.

A brief pause and Richie gave him a wan smile and said "My legs hurt.", and that got Virgil laughing, which got Richie laughing, and they moved to the more comfortable couch.

Lying there, Richie still in his arms, and they talked, talked about the fight, talked about their days, how Richie missed Virgil and he had some new inventions for him to test, how Virgil missed Richie and "Oh yeah! You'll never believe this but the girls _know_!", and Richie shrugged and said "Yeah, they cornered me a few days ago, but we fought before I got a chance to tell you.". Virgil clinging tighter and apologizing again, and Richie hiding his face in between Virgil's neck and shoulder and apologizing again, and his breath against his skin sending warmth through Virgil's body. Turning his head slightly to breathe in the scent of Richie and laying his lips very lightly to the top of the blonde's hair.

Richie lifting his head, eyes meeting his. Beautiful eyes almost pure black and shining, and still slightly wet, and a murmured "Virg.". Heads tilted closer, eyes still locked and a feather-soft brushing of lips that sent a spark through him and had Richie sighing and arching closer. Lips met again, firmer, and he had never felt more... _more_.

Kissing again and again, and deeper each time, and tongues met, and it was wet, and kind of slimy, and _good_.

Gasping for breath and Richie's hips shifting just _so_, and Virgil couldn't help the moan that escaped him. Hands on his belt, then the button, then the zipper, and he'd never felt anything like this before. Richie sliding down his body, fingers stroking and grasping and pulling and then he was encased in warmth, and he was thrusting up into Richie's mouth and crying out, and finally exploding while his world splintered around him.

Making his way back to semi-consciousness, and Richie smirking at him. Managing to flip them over and returning the favour, wiping the smug look off Richie's face and replacing it with shock and pleasure and Richie almost _screamed_ as he came.

Holding him afterwards, both gasping and sated, and Richie parted from their latest kiss panting. His hair was mussed, his face was flushed, and there was a small bead of sweat trickling from his temple to cheek that Virgil wanted to lick away, so he did.

Richie grinned. "Well, this is new."

Virgil grinned back. "Kiss and make up?"

The blonde laughed. "Kiss and make out more like." He sighed and nuzzled back into Virgil's arms, and Virgil's grip tightened, kissing the blonde's head, his cheek, any part he could reach, and his hands mapping every inch of the blonde's body.

Tired, very very tired, but _very_ content.

Richie moaned, his nose and lips brushing his chest at random intervals. "S'nice... Warm." The blonde murmured sleepily.

The only reply Virgil could manage was an "Mmm...", the energy from earlier dissipating and being replaced with lazy pleasure and this was the best he had felt in ever.

"Love you Rich." He whispered.

The blonde jerked in his arms and Virgil lay there tensed and silent, and _why_ couldn't he have kept his mouth shut.

Complete and utter silence. For so long and even though he _knew_ this wouldn't wreck their friendship - hell nothing ever had - it still... hurt.

A choked sound, "R-Really?", and he nodded even though he was cursing himself and aw hell, was Richie crying? Just as he was about to apologize Richie latched onto him tight.

"Rich? Rich I-"

"Me too."

Another long silence - so many today - and his heart was trying to beat it's way out of his chest, he knew it was.

"Wha-?"

"I love you too." Richie lifted his head to look at Virgil and laughter rang throughout the room at the gaping-in-shock look on his face. "I love you too you moron!"

Flying, he was flying, higher than ever, and he had never been this high. Pure, unchallenged _joy_ swept through him, burning his blood and shorting out his synapses, and he was grinning as he kissed Richie, deep and loving.

A soft smile on the blonde's face just amplified it all and he held Richie close, kissing his temple, and his grin - if possible - got wider when he felt him try to hide a yawn.

"Sleep." He murmured and Richie shifted slightly, pillowing his head on Virgil's chest.

"No complaints here." Was the mumbled reply and Virgil was still grinning.

Best friend - _more_ - was back, complete - _more_ - feeling, perfect - _more_ - feeling, in love - _definitely_ - feeling.

And a nap, which was just the icing on the proverbial cake. he grinned down at the slightly snoring blonde and closed his eyes, the smell of sweat, sex, and _Richie_, invaded his senses.

Yeah this was good - _perfect_ - this was definitely...

_Perfect_.

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The End.


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